


Dear Ophelia, I love you dear (I'm sorry that I haven't been here)

by Plexus (toitsu)



Category: Thor (Movies), War Horse (2011)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, but I had to do this, not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 10:01:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toitsu/pseuds/Plexus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Make it rain, brother. That way I'll always know you're watching.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>inspired by black_nata's Thor/War horse crossover gifsets (http://black-nata.tumblr.com/post/15695501264 and http://black-nata.tumblr.com/post/13646525979)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Ophelia, I love you dear (I'm sorry that I haven't been here)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [black_nata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_nata/gifts).



It wasn't raining the day Loki died, and you will never forgive yourself for that. You will never forgive a great many things, but that – that Loki died believing you weren't at least watching over him – eats away at you, little by little, with sharp little teeth and sharper claws.

(Make it rain, brother. That way I'll always know you're watching.)

The whole insane situation. Your mother cried, the day he was banished, closed the doors of her chambers to your father's face.

Your mother still cries, now that he is dead. Slaughtered; a mangled corpse among mortal men and horses – oh, how you made it rain that day, holding his bloody face gently in your large hands. Hands that couldn't protect him.

(Make it rain, brother.)

He didn't even have the chance of dying a honorable death.  He couldn't even make it to Valhalla, to sit again at your father's table, to feast and laugh and talk, talk, that beloved, clever mouth of his. This is what you will never forgive.

(That way I'll always know you're watching.)

The last time you've seen him face to face, heard his voice. Talked to him. And all he wanted was to prove himself to father. A fragile mortal body, his hair short, his face a little more lined with fatigue and war. It was still him. Your brother. Whose corpse laid bloody in a muddy field, with men and horses and he was your brother, a god – god felled by mortal men and their machines. This was not supposed to happen.

(Watch over me in battle, will you?)

This you will do – though it will not ease the pain, nothing ever will – this you promise before all of Asgard, before your father's throne: ' They will pay for what they have done. Down to the very last mortal, they will pay. Midgard will be no more than rubble and dust, fire and ash. They will pay for what they have done to my brother.'

And a little later, when you descend upon them in all your fury and at the head of your army,  this you will repeat.

(Make it rain, brother.)

And they will pay.

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'Dear Ophelia' by Abney park. you should all listen to it, it's a wonderful song


End file.
